


too busy bein' yours

by nutriscii



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, just two dumbasses being oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22560466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutriscii/pseuds/nutriscii
Summary: “You love me,” Lucas grins broadly. He brings the cigarette to his lips, playfully exhaling the smoke in Eliott’s face. “In fact, you love me so much you even promised to marry me.”or; Friends to Lovers AU
Relationships: Arthur Broussard/Alexia Martineau (mentioned), Basile Savary/Daphné Lecomte (mentioned), Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant, Sofiane Alaoui/Imane Bakhellal, Yann Cazas/Emma Borgès (mentioned)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 235





	too busy bein' yours

It’s not that Lucas hates housewarming parties.

He frankly doesn’t. His friends are always buzzing with excitement, and everyone is laughing and cheering and drinking and dancing and eating and toasting and-

Okay, fine, he’s _starting_ to hate it. Not like he’d like to crash one. Not like he’s actively trying to sabotage it or to pass on it. It’s just a constant feeling of annoyance, right there, at the back of his head, like a constant reminder that he’s single and everyone else isn’t.

At the very beginning, when Arthur and Alexia moved in together, halfway through college, it was really cool. Their place was (and still is) a really cute studio, with their bedroom on a mezzanine, a bright-yellow colored living-room, and a neighborhood association close-by where Alex has started giving dance lessons to kids ever since. They had all flocked-in one glorious Friday night to celebrate, gotten more drunk than they probably should have and smoked enough to make the smoking-detector go off, but it had been all worth it. The next morning, Lucas had made a promise to himself; no matter the amount of alcohol in his system, even dying after smacking his head on the pavement on his way home would be better than to be woken up by Arthur and Alexia going at it at 6am.

Housewarming parties were still fun by the time Daphné and Basile moved in together after graduation, in their half-furnished (really, he’s generous) one-bedroom that was definitely a lot more ‘Daphné’ than ‘Basile’. They had dinner that night, and not just drinks and snacks, and it had been the first time he could recall all of them sitting down and eating off plates instead of pizza containers like functioning adults. It got a tiny bit more difficult when, not quite a year later, Yann had moved out from their crappy and totally overpriced shoe-box-sized apartment, with their ratty couch, their stash of video games and the maxi pack of condoms hidden in the coffee-table, to move in with Emma.

Yes. _Emma_.

A part of Lucas had been trying to decipher for a while whether or not he should step in, and tell his best friend to stop this nonsense before it was too late, but he had eventually decided not to. Emma and him had been dating on and off since high school, there weren’t many cons to moving in with her he could possibly yield that Yann wasn’t already aware of anyway.

And now-

“What’s with the long face?”

His head snaps to the side, acknowledging Eliott’s presence with a glance as he’s sliding next to him in the window frame of Sofiane and Imane’s bedroom. In the living-room, Sofiane has turned up the music a while ago and his friends are fussing and laughing, chatting happily. Another housewarming party, another flat to christen, and hopefully the last one before Lucas finally snaps for good.

He shrugs one shoulder, adjusting his elbows onto the railing, before bringing his cigarette to his lips. Imane has allowed him to smoke but only at the window, which is more than he’d have hoped for. “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

Eliott snorts and shakes his head. “C’mon,” and he nudges his arm from the bottom of his beer bottle. “You’re never this quiet usually. And I’ve barely seen you lately.”

He rolls his eyes affectedly with a small huff. Count on Eliott to always make a big deal out of things. “I’ve been busy,” he says, and to be fair it _is_ the truth.

Being a web developer and being in charge of your own work hours is lots of fun, until you realize you’ve been a lazy shit far longer than originally intended. Trying to cram three weeks worth of work into one doesn’t make for peaceful nights, he can definitely state as much.

“Yeah, I know,” Eliott says matter-of-factly, and he picks the cigarette from between Lucas’ fingers to bring it to his lips. He’d be offended if it wasn’t something they had done since the moment they had met, almost a decade ago. “I’ve seen you online until like, super late.” He breathes out the smoke outside, and mirrors Lucas’ position with his elbows on the railing. “When will you finally learn to schedule things, uh?”

He retrieves his beer from where he’s left it, in the corner of the window frame, and takes a sip. “What makes you think I wasn’t busy having fun?”

Eliott cocks an eyebrow, glancing sideways with a knowing look. “Were you?”

He humfs grumpily and snatches the cigarette from Eliott’s hand. His sex-life has been reduced to the strict minimum for the past month (solo sessions, because he’s living his best life), and it’s starting to make him feel even lonelier than usual. Not that he needs it, the fact that everyone is teasing him about supposedly not willing to settle down is already enough for that.

He considers his cigarette, and sighs to himself. He should have brought weed instead. And gotten something stronger to drink than beer. “I’m single and trying to deal with it, shut up.”

Eliott hums noncommittally. “I thought you didn’t mind being single.” Lucas pulls a face, and Eliott vaguely waves with his hand. “I thought it was, you know, something you liked.”

“That’s what single people say so that other people don’t pity them.”

“Manon is single, and she seems happy.”

Lucas snorts. “Manon dated Charles. For _years_. As in, several thousands of days. Anything is better.”

“Fair enough,” Eliott concedes, then he turns to him, tilting his head to the side in obvious wonder. “So, does that mean you’re finally getting tired of meaningless hook-ups?”

“Look who’s talking, Mister I-need-a-relationship-or-I-die,” Lucas retorts with a groan.

In the last six months alone, he’s lost count of how many dates Eliott went on and how many relationships he’s started. That’s the thing with Eliott, you always have to keep a poker face whenever he arrives at a party, because you’re never entirely sure who he’s arriving with, and when like Lucas you’re shit with names, you can basically forget about calling his new significant other directly because there’s a 50% chance you’re remembering someone else’s name. He’s not exactly sure that him hooking-up with some guy every now and then would be any worse, but apparently it is.

“Not the same,” Eliott counters, as if to make a point, but Lucas is still failing the logic of it all.

He gives him a look. “Same result, you switch partners too and you showed up alone tonight.”

There’s a second of silence, filled with laughter from their friends and the tinkling of glasses in the next room, and Eliott just stares at him, his expression unreadable as his grey eyes seem glued to him. Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It’s always been a touchy subject for him —but then Eliott starts laughing and shakes his head, and Lucas breathes a little better.

“How am I still talking to you,” Eliott huffs, taking a long sip from his beer.

“You love me,” Lucas grins broadly. He brings the cigarette to his lips, playfully exhaling the smoke in Eliott’s face. “In fact, you love me so much you even promised to marry me.”

“It was never a proposal, Jesus,” Eliott protests, shoving him in return. “I only talked about dating.”

Lucas hums, putting the remnant of cigarette out and letting it drop in his now-empty beer bottle. The scene had taken place almost a decade ago. The night was desperate, he had been left alone by the guys who had all gone to make out in various corners of the house they were partying in, he was scrawny and weird and he just wanted to be loved - and he was drunk, also. A deadly combo for his pride, that had left him crying and puking and crying again on the bathroom floor, exactly where Eliott had found him.

“Yeah, I sure hope for your future spouse that you’re going to pull something better than toilet paper and a dirty bathroom floor,” Lucas snickers.

Eliott shoots him a glare. “I didn’t hear any complaints, last I remember.”

“That’s because I’ve always been too nice.”

“No, just too wasted.”

Lucas shrugs, pulling himself away from the railing to rest his back against the window wing. “Still sober enough to remember that _magical_ night,” he bites back with a cheeky grin that makes Eliott snort.

It’s always in moments like these that he realizes how much he misses not seeing him every day. They’ve stopped hanging out on a daily basis when Eliott graduated, so it’s been a long while ever since, but still. It always stings a bit when you realize that life is slowly making you drift apart. It doesn’t help that Eliott can hardly keep a job for a full year, and thus always ends up switching work hours and life patterns, which isn’t exactly easy to establish new (and sacred) habits.

“Maybe we should try,” he hears himself saying, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Dating, I mean.” He keeps his grin on, because really, it’s not like he’s being, well, _serious_ about it. He just thinks it could be fun. And, well, nice. After all, they’ve kissed already, even if it was meant as a dare. And Eliott’s said a few times in the past that Lucas could be his type. He clears his throat a little. “I mean, imagine the mess.”

Eliott is staring back at him, intensely, and wow, when has the atmosphere shifted to something weird?

Eliott licks his lips and he can’t prevent himself from following the gesture with his eyes. Fuck, this is why he drinks at parties, because being sober fucking sucks.

He’s rubbing his arm uncomfortably, gaze flickering. “Lucas,” he says. “I… I’m moving away.”

“What do you mean, he’s leaving?”

Lucas begrudgingly stirs his coffee after adding sugar. “He’s going to Lisbon. Fucking _Lisbon_. Joining his ex for all I know.”

He’s not bothering to hide how annoyed the whole thing makes him feel. Eliott is one of his closest friends, and he’s been one for almost half of his life, so it’s perfectly reasonable for him to be upset when said close friend suddenly decides to drop a fucking bomb like that.

It’s got nothing to do with any hypothetical rejection from the other night. It can’t be one, because he wasn’t actually _believing_ Eliott would say ‘fuck it let’s do it’ when he asked him out (jokingly, might he add). And even if he _did_ believe it, if only for a second (which is absolutely no one’s business), it should be remembered that he’s never _asked_ Eliott to promise him they’d date. Never. Who the hell would do that? That’s beyond stupid, it’s suicidal. Especially when the person making that kind of promise is disturbingly beautiful and addicted to relationships. In Lucas’ defense, he had tried to shut him up, when Eliott had opened his stupid mouth with this stupid idea.

“I don’t need your pity,” he had said, or more like sobbed, which, he reckons, might be a bit bold coming from someone with snot dribbling down his face and who’d just complained about dying a virgin two seconds before.

“It’s not pity,” Eliott had insisted. “Look, I don’t- I mean if you were into guys? I’d date you right away.”

And this is exactly why nothing had happened, back then. Also a little bit after that. He was just closeted and sad and Eliott was beautiful and taken, and whenever Lucas thinks back about it, it always makes him feel like the most pathetic premise of Hollywood’s next teen-movie. Very John Green-esque, mostly in the desperation. He and Eliott had drifted a little apart after that night; for a while Eliott was convinced he had made him uncomfortable, and Lucas was too embarrassed about the whole thing to be able to look at him dead in the eye without his skin burning with shame.

When he looks up, Yann still looks dumbfounded, frozen on the spot halfway through taking off his jacket. “Which one?,” he frowns, eventually finding back control of his body apparently.

“Romain.”

It takes a moment for Yann to put two and two together, his face crumpling into a frown. “Didn’t they break-up, like, a year ago or something?”

Lucas nods grumpily and slumps a little bit more against the back of his chair. “I don’t know, I mean he said he’s getting bored with Paris and that he’s got a job offer there with Romain’s cousin. But like, why would you leave your fucking country to work for your ex’s cousin if it’s not to get back up with him at some point?”

Yann seems to ponder his answer and eventually shrugs. “Dunno,” he says casually, hands circling his cup of coffee. “It’s not the first time Eliott’s on good terms with one of his exes, when you think about it.”

Whatever. It’s got nothing to do with that anyway, if Eliott wants to get back with him, he supposes it’s not his business to get concerned about it. He’s got only scarce memory of said-guy, his six-month relationship with Eliott having ever since been followed by a string of others, but it’s not the worst of the exes he can remember.

He lets his fingers drum on the edge of the table for a moment, before he lets out a huff. “Okay, so literally I’m the only one who’s bothered by the whole thing?”

Yann glances up at him with raised eyebrows. “Bothered might be a big word,” he says. “If that’s what he wants…”

“It’s Eliott we’re talking about,” Lucas reminds with a groan. “He doesn’t even speak the language! He said he’s gonna figure it out in time. When did he become so fucking dumb?” Just the thought of it is starting to piss him off all over again. God he should have slapped him. Maybe that would have knocked some sense into Eliott’s stupid head.

His best friend considers him for a while, which he only realizes after at least a good minute spent with him gruffly stirring his coffee. “What’s bothering you so much?”, Yann asks, frowning a bit. 

“Nothing. I just think it’s stupid as fuck,” he retorts, and Yann sighs, shaking his head. It’s the kind of sighs that has a shit-ton of unsaid stuff behind, but he’s not in the mood to play guessing game. “What?”

“Lu, what did you do when I told you I was moving in with Emma?”

He blinks. And here he thought he was being smooth. “I… told you I was happy for you,” he mumbles.

“Exactly. Because that’s what friends do,” Yann says casually, “they support you even when they’re not 100% convinced it’s the right choice.”

“I never said it wasn’t the right choice,” he counters half-heartedly, because honestly it’s been like two years and so far he’s been mostly proven wrong, so what’s the point in bringing this shit back?

“Point is,” his best friend says, as if he’s able to follow his thoughts, “it’s Eliott. Nothing says he’s not going to come back in six months anyway.” He picks up his cup. “Don’t get involved.”

Fake it until you make it has been the very definition of Lucas’ love life since high school. It’s obviously very different from the type of ‘faking’ he had to pull when he was still in the closet, but the point still remains just about the same: instead of hiding his sexuality, he’d just hide his insecurities. Whatever he would be obsessing about at the moment, he would try and shove it as far back as he could, if only to allow himself to enjoy things as they came. Going for hook-up apps has been his go-to solution to kill time during lonely evenings, ever since he’s stopped picking up people at college parties; he’d meet up with the guy after exchanging a bit for a day or two through whatever app that was they were using (he’s found it’s the perfect timing between too forward and slightly awkward), preferably in a public place, for the ultimate creep test.

And truth is, he’s never really had anything to complain about, except for that one time the guy had lectured him for about half an hour on why choking in the bedroom was a major turn-on. The majority of his hook-ups has helped him on the confidence front, but not much on the romance one. Which, he supposes, can be a bit of a problem when you’re trying really hard to score a second date.

The fact that his phone has been pinging repeatedly for the past fifteen minutes thanks to Eliott isn’t helping much.

“I’m sorry, he never knows when to shut the fuck up,” he mumbles half-heatedly, when Thomas, a nice guy he’s matched with something like a week ago, glances one more time over to his phone.

He’s stopped talking in the middle of a childhood story Lucas has _obviously_ been listening to. “You can answer, that’s okay,” Thomas says with a casual wave.

Lucas makes a small grimace, shaking his head. “If I do that he’ll just text back and so on.” He picks up his phone and sets it on mute from a few swipes of fingers. Honestly, the only reason it was not on mute already is because he was texting with Thomas before getting at the restaurant. He sets it back down next to his plate, and smiles back to his date. “There. Let’s try the ‘cry it out’ method.”

Thomas huffs a laugh and returns the grin. “What are your friends gonna say if you shut them out every time we’re together?”

Lucas snorts, taking a bite of his lasagna. “Don’t worry, they’ll understand. Plus, Eliott’s supposed to move to Portugal, so he’s not really the one you should get concerned about anyway.”

 _Speak of the devil._ Just as he’s mentioning his name, another notification from Eliott pops up. As silent as his phone is, it just keeps distracting him, and his fingers are literally itching to grab his phone and politely tell Eliott to fuck off, but that’d be rude. (To Thomas, not to Eliott.)

“Oh, that’s nice,” Thomas grins between two bites. “My paternal grandparents moved over there like five years ago. Where he is going?”

Lucas’ eyes dart onto him, after he’s been making a supreme effort to focus on his plate and not on his phone. “I… don’t really know,” he admits reluctantly, and just as he was expecting it, Thomas frowns, a little surprised. Nice, now he looks like an asshole. “I mean, he’s said it’s not far from Lisbon,” he adds after a second of awkward silence.

The conversation moves onto Portugal, which is so ironic Lucas is about to cry by the time he’s finished his plate. He’s literally been trying to avoid people talking about that shitty traveling destination for nearly a week and this is what he gets now. As if it wasn’t enough to make this feel like a very, very bad romcom evening, Eliott seems very decided to do the _opposite_ of what a friend should do. His phone keeps lighting up with new texts, until Eliott’s caller ID takes over the screen as they’re ordering dessert.

“It seems really urgent,” Thomas points out carefully while the waiter scribbles down their order.

 _Maybe he’s choking_ , he thinks bitterly, and for half a second it seems like a fitting punishment for being such a troll tonight. He waits for the waiter to leave to excuse himself. “I’m really sorry, I swear it won’t take more than a minute,” he promises as he grabs his phone. He stands up and walks over to the entrance of the restaurant, settling in the least problematic spot he can think of before he picks up. “What do you want?,” he sighs, annoyed, as he presses the phone to his ear.

“Hello to you too,” Eliott muses on the other end of the line, and he has the audacity to sound offended. “I get that you didn’t read my texts.”

They’ve invented those dumb blue thingies for a reason, he nearly snaps, it’s to let people _know_ they’ve _read_ the texts, but apparently, it’s not how it works in Eliott’s world. “I’m busy right now.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out,” Eliott laughs and Lucas nearly scoffs. _Then why are you calling?!_ “I just wanted to know if you wanted to grab dinner. We still need to try that food-truck next to my place, how would you feel about that?”

Lucas sighs, rubbing his forehead. “I’ve already had dinner, thanks.”

“Oh. Okay. Was it healthy, at least?”

He’s forced to take a step to the side while an elderly couple slides through the door. “Eliott, I’m serious, what do you want? What’s going on?”

There’s a second of silence. “Nothing. I just wanted to know if you could squeeze some time off for me soon. Like, by the end of the week.”

“I really don’t know right now,” he mumbles, trying to make himself small enough so as not to bother the waiters swirling around the tables. “Why?”

A rustle echoes on the other end of the line, probably because Eliott is rummaging through papers or something. “I’ll be in Lisbon at the end of the week,” he says.

“What? This week?” he asks bluntly, annoyance dissipating a little.

“Yeah. I wanted to tell you in person but you seem really busy so I didn’t want to bother,” Eliott admits, sounding a little sheepish, and Lucas closes his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry for being pushy.”

When he opens his eyes again, he finds himself glancing at his table, where Thomas is busy flicking through his phone in the meantime. Now he feels bad. He feels bad about avoiding Eliott, and he feels about lying. Because that’s what it is, right? He can’t say he’s been as close as he used to be with Eliott lately, courtesy to schedules and life getting in the way, but he’s rarely lied to his face like this. Why is he lying even? Eliott goes on tons of dates, and he’s never thrown a tantrum about it, why would it be so the other way around? As for avoiding… That either, he doesn’t really know why it’s become such a big deal lately. There’s a part of him that still hasn’t let go of the stupidity of Eliott leaving. It surely must be the bigger part.

 _The only part_.

Eliott calling his name in the distance forces his mind back, and he tears his eyes away from his date. “Yes, sorry, I’m here,” he says, voice a little rough. “Look, I’m- I’ll try to find a way. Okay?”

“Okay,” Eliott replies, and he _knows_ he’s smiling. His grin is just pouring through his voice. “Lu?”, he calls out again, and Lucas hums in response. “Don’t forget to sleep, alright?”

He does score a second date.

Which is cool. Exciting even.

They go to a Mexican restaurant this time and it goes a lot smoother now that Eliott isn’t rudely interrupting every five seconds. Well, not that smooth, because their waitress mixes their order and so they have to wait twice the amount of time until they can get something to eat, but it leaves more time to talk.

“Next time we should grab take-outs,” Thomas jokes, and Lucas cocks an eyebrow.

“So there will be another time,” he smirks, and his date flashes an unapologetic grin in return. “Bold move, I like it.”

If he plays his cards well he might soon have someone to call his boyfriend and to introduce to people. Once the opportunity for a third date is out, Thomas suggests they have dinner at his place on Friday evening, which is code name for sex and overall a more exciting night than they’ve had so far. Not that Thomas is boring. He’s really cute and nice, and god knows Lucas needs someone like him, and the fact that he has no trouble picturing him with the rest of the Gang is definitely going on the plus column. He’s never had a proper relationship, a real adult one; the one time he officially met in-laws was when the parents of the guy he had been seeing on and off for a few months in college had stumbled on them one fine Saturday morning during a surprise-visit. Thomas on the other hand seems like someone he could see himself bring along to family gatherings (those he can’t ditch, at least), and various weekends outside of Paris his friends like to organize when they feel like it.

Friends he’s currently hiding from, actually.

It’s been four days since Eliott asked him to hang out and since he’s a terrible human being Lucas has been consistently trying to deflect each and any attempt Eliott came up with so far, and apparently the fact that he’s trying to avoid him specifically ends up looking a lot like cheating on all of his friends at once and hiding from his parents the fact that he’s ditching school at the same time. He finds himself spending more time home than usual when he’s not working, simply because pretending to be busy is ruling out casual breakfasts and afternoon drinks with his friends, and it’s not until the fourth day that he ultimately decides not to give a damn -which of course ends up backfiring, because he’s lucky like that.

“Why are you avoiding Eliott?”, Imane asks casually.

They’re sitting in the small park (a pompous way to call a 5m² green area with three bushes and a bench), right across from the hospital she’s working in as an intern. The weather is nice enough that they can eat their take-out salads there in peace, and he knows Imane would probably roll her eyes at that but it’s become kind of a ritual lately. Once or twice a week he drags himself there when he knows she has a lunch-break, so that he can annoy her until she caves and he can force her to get some fresh air.

He chews on a cherry-tomato, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Who told you that?”

“Eliott.”

He huffs. “I’m not avoiding him.” Plus, for the past two days at least Eliott hasn’t tried to reach out either. Not a text, nothing. So it’s not _all_ his fault anyway.

Imane hums noncommittally, picking her bottle of water up to take a sip. “So it has nothing to do with you seeing someone,” she says again, putting the bottle back between them, and this time Lucas nearly drops his plastic fork in frustration. “Sofiane saw you with your mystery boyfriend the other night.”

This is what he gets for trying to sneak around. “We’re not boyfriends yet,” he groans, “it’s part of the reason I haven’t told anyone yet. I’d appreciate it if you could keep it to yourself otherwise Baz is gonna be on my case for weeks.”

She shrugs, biting on a piece of chicken. “Fine, whatever you want I’m not your mother. I just think you should talk to Eliott.”

“And I think he shouldn’t go,” he bites back, “so you see where the problem is?”

Imane turns to him with a quirked brow. “Did you tell him that?”

“No, because I’m his friend.” And apparently being friends with someone is supporting their dumb decisions, he almost adds. Ever since he’s had this conversation with Yann he’s been wondering how many of his life-choices everyone pretended to be okay with, just for the sake of friendship. It’s not like he’s done so many dumb stuff he could be ashamed of, like he’s never shaved his head or dyed his hair blue or left for a fucking new country, but-

“I’m his friend too and I told him it was dumb.” He stares at Imane in disbelief, and Imane swallows down her piece of lettuce. “I mean not with those exact words of course, but you know.”

He ends up snorting. “Does that we’re the only two reasonable people in this group?”

“I never picked you as someone reasonable,” Imane deadpans, and he glares at her until a small smirk shows up on her lips. “Anyway, tell him, don’t tell him, do as you want but I think you should hang out with him while he’s still there at least.”

“Whatever. He’s gonna be back in six months anyway,” he grumbles, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork and bringing it to his mouth.

He doesn’t really know if he’s trying to convince Imane or himself.

Eliott’s dropped out of uni halfway through a literature degree and got bored after a semester of some art major he had picked on a spur of the moment. He’s worked in retail in two stores, three if Lucas is counting the video club, has been the clumsiest bartender in Paris for about two months before falling in love with the art of tattooing after getting his 5456256th tattoo done.

Thinking that he isn’t going to last six months abroad before deciding to get back has nothing to do with being mean, at this point it’s just a fact. And like any of his other friends, Lucas is rightfully concerned about the prospect of Eliott finding himself in a difficult situation. This is absolutely why he’s knocking at Eliott’s door well past midnight, instead of sleeping. Because he’s nice. Too nice. And because he cares.

 _Caring sucks_ , he grumbles inwardly, waiting for Eliott to move his ass.

There’s a moment where nothing happens, then he hears a floorboard creaking a little, quiet footsteps behind the door and the lock turning and Eliott frowning slightly in confusion. “Hey there?”

“Yes, hi, now I need you to listen to me,” Lucas immediately interrupts, “I’m not going to stand there and let you make the dumbest decision of your life.”

He doesn’t wait for Eliott to move before he brushes past him and slides into the flat in the small space left between him and the door. Eliott turns around on the spot, brow furrowed, before closing the door slowly. “What decision? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Leaving Paris, you idiot!” Lucas hisses in frustration. “This is where your family and all your friends are! You’ve got this amazing flat for literally half the price it should be just because you’re a lucky bastard like that, and all of that for what? To spend a six-month vacation in Portugal?”

“You said I should do it,” Eliott protests as he walks closer, and Lucas sneers.

“Because you really would have listened to me otherwise?”

Eliott presses his lips together, shoving his hands into his pocket with a small shrug. “Well maybe. But it would take you talking to me in the first place, so.”

Lucas opens his mouth and closes it. “I asked you out,” he blurts out, and he wants to slap himself really bad because _this is not the fucking point_ , but it’s too late apparently. “You told me you were leaving the minute I asked you out!”

“Asking me out?” Eliott echoes, scoffing, and it sounds bitter. He takes his hands out of his pockets and starts counting obnoxiously counting on his hands. “You said it was a joke-”

“Because you got all weird!”

“Of course I got weird,” Eliott exclaims. “I fucking love you, dumbass, and the only time you even consider dating me is because it’d make a good joke?” _What is happening?_ Did he hear right? Is he making shit up? Probably. It’s not a thing. It’s not meant like that, obviously. But before Lucas can even say anything, Eliott beats him to it, and every word is making Lucas’ eyes go wider and wider. “I’m tired of waiting for the moment you finally decide to settle down, so yes, I’m fucking moving away and yes, I’m done pretending being just friends is fine while you keep sleeping around!”

See, this is very, very funny. A moment of peak comedy in his miserable existence, that he wished he could have on tape or something, because really, this is fucking _gold_. “ _Are you fucking kidding me_?” he yells again, cheeks burning, and he isn’t going to wait and be told off by Eliott _Demaury_ , like everything going wrong is on him. “You’re dating someone new every week!”

“Because that’s what I want!” Eliott shouts. “I want a relationship and you can’t fucking be bothered to try having one!”

“Excuse me if you leaving the _country_ doesn’t strike me as a greenlight!”

“Oh trust me,” Eliott sneers, and it comes out bitter and painful and _he fucking wants to slap him oh my God_ , I’m way, way past greenlights with you because you’re a fucking dumbass who never gets a fucking hint when he hears one!”

“Well maybe you should be clea-”

Eliott’s lips crash against his own before he can even get the word out, so hard it knocks the air out of his lungs; they are neither soft nor gentle, like that one time Daphné tricked them into kissing under that stupid mistletoe. They’re fierce and brutal and demanding and-

He gasps slightly when Eliott bites onto his bottom lip. Eliott takes his parted lips as his cue to deepen the kiss, and a shiver runs up Lucas’ spine, hair rising up on his arms, when his tongue pushes into his mouth. It’s a bit frantic, and it turns out wet and messy, his arms winding up around Eliott’s shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. One of Eliott’s hands has moved at the back of his head, fingers digging into his hair, and a small tug draws a groan from deep within his throat, and maybe it’s a moan already, who the fuck knows.

They break apart to grasp some oxygen, Lucas’ heart beating so fucking fast that all he can hear for a moment is the blood pounding into his ears.

“You’re so dumb,” Eliott mumbles against his lips, and he can’t even bring himself to slap him, because there’s a very, very logical correlation between his fingers digging into Eliott’s shoulders and his ability to breathe, it’s a fact now apparently.

“You’re dumber,” he bites back in a breath, “the fucking dumbest.”

Eliott doesn’t reply anything, mostly because Lucas dives right back into a kiss without letting him the time to do so. He hasn’t even registered they’ve started moving, not until he takes a few steps backward and that his back hits the wall behind him.

“Hold on,” Lucas breathes out, breaking the kiss, and Eliott lets out a small hum of protest as he chases his lips for a split-second. “What are we doing?”

Making out with Eliott was absolutely _not_ part of the plan or part of the reason he came here in the first place for that matter. Not that he doesn’t like it. Which is also a problem. A much, much bigger problem. Because he’s dating someone, even if he’s not in relationship with him just yet, and because Eliott is _Eliott_ , and because he’s supposed to be leaving, and they’re _not_ supposed to be kissing and why the fuck is this happening?

Eliott’s eyes trail up his face until they meet his own, and Lucas’ knees start to fucking buckle for good now. Why does he have to be so fucking beautiful? No one has any business looking like _that_ , especially not when he’s supposed to be mad at him.

“I think it’s the part you beg me to stay,” Eliott whispers, nearly brushing their lips together again.

What a motherfucking tease. If he wasn’t positively wrecked already, Lucas would scoff. That’s very, very bold of him to assume it’s _his_ place to start fucking begging. “And what about the part you beg me to go,” Lucas retorts. It would be more efficient if he didn’t sound like he was just so stupidly breathless.

“You’d do that?” Eliott asks, eyebrow cocking.

“Well, maybe,” Lucas shrugs, and he tries to sound casual and a little detached, but it just fails because his heart is still beating and Eliott is literally pressing him into a wall, and all Lucas’ brain can comprehend right now is _kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me._ “You’d have to be really good at begging though.”

Eliott teases him some more, brushing their lips together without really kissing him, those maddening almost-kisses that makes him simultaneously want to strangle Eliott and to rip his clothes off. “It’s fine,” he whispers, “I’m not above begging on my knees.”

His heart skips a beat, and he can’t help a small groan escaping his lips. _Holy fucking shit_. Eliott takes the opportunity to travel his lips along his jawline, his soft, warm breath caressing his face, and Lucas’ hand shoots up to cup the back of his head. He can barely remember why he’s come here and what was happening before Eliott’s lips touched his own, he can barely think about-

 _Shit no_.

“Eliott, hold on,” he breathes out, voice rough and heartbeat speeding up. “I’m seeing- I’m seeing someone.”

The moment the words are out he feels Eliott tense, his arms stiffening around Lucas’ body as he leans back a little. “What?”

“It’s not- I mean it’s not a relationship yet,” he quickly presses on, and he hates how desperate that sounds because half an hour ago he never so much as thought something like _this_ could happen between them, so it’s not like he wouldn’t survive if Eliott took the piss, right? _Who the fuck are you kidding_. Of course he’d fucking want to die. “We just went on two dates so, nothing really happened, it’s just-”

Eliott’s eyes are literally freezing his soul right now, and it’s a part of the reason his voice trails off. They don’t really look scary, they don’t even necessarily look angry or mad or cold, they just look a little hostile and a lot unreadable. The change of tone between conversations and attitudes is starting to giving him whiplash. This is what he fucking gets for trying to be honest.

“You were really serious about wanting a relationship?”, Eliott says, and just like that, in a goddam snap of the fingers, his gaze softens.

He gives a smirk that he hopes isn’t as stiffy as he’s feeling right now. This whole conversation is like walking on eggshell for fuck’s sake. “Don’t flatter yourself, Demaury, I’m not just saying nice things to get into your pants.”

Eliott huffs, leaning away some more. “We should stop then,” he says. “Until you break things off.”

Lucas’ hands fall onto his wrists as Eliott’s arms are releasing their embrace around him, holding him in place. “Or maybe I can be really oblivious about the whole relationship business until tomorrow.”

Eliott seems to give it a thought. “Am I gonna regret this?” and before Lucas can even come up with an answer, he shakes his head and pulls him back flush against him. “Nevermind, I don’t care.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading 🤟🏻✌🏻


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